The Crow: Second Chance
by Shay Stark and Raven Rogers
Summary: Goth Antonio Randall is a fan of Eric Draven after hearing the story from one of his friends and told it is just a myth. But when a mysterious crow brings him a beautiful black-haired man, Antonio must fight to protect Eric with the help of Alex and Ashe.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The bird was black, glossy, somewhat beautiful, and the fact it had landed on my balcony rail the second I stepped outside didn't escape me. Whistling softly, I reached out and stroked the creature's smooth feathers, trailing my fingers down the head and neck and petting the back. I had always wanted a crow for a pet, to place atop a black metal perch in the living room amongst the other furniture, to teach to speak and call my own. Right now, I was dressed for a Halloween party and was about to leave when I stepped out on the balcony to place a single black rose on the cold stone, a memory of the late and great Eric Draven. I'd never met him before, but I had heard the stories, and it was my token of remembrance for him to lay a black rose on my balcony every holiday. As a true Goth, I tried to salute all of my heroes, and who didn't love the rock star who came back from the dead to avenge his and his fiancee's murders?

"Hello," I greeted the creature, offering it the rose. "They say you take souls to the land of the dead. Think you can take this to Eric for me? Not sure if he's been getting the other ones."

The bird cawed at me and held up one taloned foot, gripping the plump bloom firmly but gently, then flew off into the distance with it. Smiling, I drew my black cape tighter around my shoulders and started toward my front door, stopping to check my make-up in the hall mirror. My face was painted white, my lips black, along with heavy eyeliner, eyeshadow, and mascara, all black. A silk cape hung from my shoulders, bound with a silver clasp, and my shirt was deep burgundy, a black corset laced up with red ties covering the bottom part of it. My pants were black satin, skin tight, and black boots laced up to my knees with red silk ties. My black hair was short and choppy, brushing the top of the cape.

My mind still on the crow, I opened the door and started downstairs.

"What have you got for me?" Eric Draven asked, holding out his hand when he noticed the Crow had something in gripped in its foot. Cawing, the bird dropped what appeared to be a slightly furled pitch black rose, the stem stripped of thorns, the leaves thick and mossy. "A present?"

The bird cawed and waved its wing, indicating he should follow it. Chuckling, Eric wound the long stem around his fingers and held the bloom in his cupped palm, following the Crow down the streets, wondering if it would lead him to the person who thought to offer him a present on Halloween.


	2. Chapter One

The party had been tiring as hell, but Antonio imagined it would live in its own brand of infamy until the day they all kicked the bucket. He smiled to himself as he stripped out of his Halloween garb and changed into an over-sized black t-shirt and his favorite pair of black pajama pants. It was ten till midnight, but he still had to do the damned dishes and finish the outline for his psychology paper. He loved the class itself, but it was the work his professor demanded that was burning a smoking hole into his already minimal sleep schedule. To tell the truth, he was dreading the two papers his class was supposed to have completed after this first one, but he could not very well drop the class. He was working toward a degree in the fine arts, yes, but understanding the human mind would help lend some credibility to his otherwise muddled poetry.

He rolled his neck and received a couple of pops, then headed over to the small balcony with a sigh. Being a student had never been easy, but college was a choice made entirely by him, and he would stick it out until the end. He braced his elbows on the cold railing and peered out at the city, which was a mass of sound and color, a testament to the true Halloween spirit. Did any of those people remember Eric Draven and Shelly Webster, or were the two departed darlings saved only in the minds of Eric's fans?

"Well, you're awfully morbid tonight," Antonio muttered to himself, raking a hand through his tangled hair. "He's dead, she's dead, and all that's left is a record and two tombstones."

As he was about to step back into his apartment, a flutter of feathered wings made him stop and turn. A crow was perched on the railing, and though it looked as run-of-the-mill as any other crow, he could have sworn it was the same one he had given the rose to hours ago. It cawed up at him, but he simply scooped it up and carried it into the slightly warmer than outside kitchen for a snack. The crow seemed content enough in his hands, and to his relief, its beak did not make any attempt to peck at his hands or, even worse, his eyes. He let it sit on the kitchen counter and hunted through the fridge, finally settling on a pack of raw hamburger he knew he was not going to end up eating. When he offered a piece to the bird, its beak snatched up the beef and made it gone with one little toss of its magnificent ebony head, intelligent eyes glinting. Antonio sat the package in front of the crow and was heading for the sink when the sound of soft knocking led him back to the living room.

It was midnight, officially November first, and no one Antonio knew would be making a house call this late. He wondered who would be at his door, but when he checked the peephole, he found only a stretch of the usual dark, barely lit hall. With a sigh, he decided to humor the moron who rang and ran, unlatching the chain so he could greet the imaginary visitor standing out in the hallway. He swung the door open with a pretentious flourish and let out a muted screech when he came face to face with a tell figure draped entirely in black. The figure stepped inside and closed the door, and once gloved hand clamped over Antonio's mouth, silencing the much louder scream about to be produced.

"Don't scream, Antonio Randall," the figure said, but the calm voice only made Antonio's panic levels jump a half dozen levels higher. "You sent me a rose, and I decided to thank you for it personally. Face to face sentiments are always much more meaningful than handwritten ones, or so I've been told. Can you calm down for a moment?"

Antonio gave only a small nod, the most he could manage under the extremely not right situation. It was hard to process the reality of a man who was supposed to be dead standing in his living room, holding a hand over his mouth, smiling pleasantly. He remembered giving the crow the rose with the request it be given to Eric, but was he supposed to know the damn thing would listen so well? His job was to stock books at a bookstore in the better part of the city, not to be a Crow Whisperer who could recall souls from beyond the grave. He was and had been an Atheist for years, and along with not believing in an existing higher power, he refused to trust in any sort of afterlife. Once dead, always dead, but it appeared Eric Draven was going to prove him wrong no matter how many times he denied it inside of his head.

"You don't need to have a panic attack, and it's better that you don't pass out. I don't have any medical training, and calling an ambulance could become very awkward," Eric said as he removed his hand from Antonio's mouth.

"I'm not going to have a panic attack," Antonio said, his voice tight as he struggled to remember how to breathe. "I'm not a chick, and I don't have panic attacks. But I don't know anyone who wouldn't freak out when they saw a dead person just walk into their apartment like it happens every day. You're Eric Draven, and Eric Draven is dead, and dead people don't come back from where they go, and-"

Eric placed a single finger on Antonio's lips. "Do not use all of your oxygen to babble. I'm here. Deal with it."

Antonio pouted and folded his arms across his chest as Eric walked over to where the crow waited.

Being bossed around by a dead guy sucked.


End file.
